I don’t know about y’all, but I am not a good waiter. And I’m not talking about the “would you like fries with that?” kind of waiter, though I’m certain I would be just AWFUL at that, too. Take last Friday—I reached for a bag of chips out of the pantry and dropped them. Then I reached for a bag of carrots out of the refrigerator and dropped it. Then I made my kid’s lunches and two left them on the kitchen counter. I’m pretty sure that was their fault, not mine. But still. Can you imagine me trying to balance a tray full of Pepsi’s over a restaurant full of unsuspecting customer’s heads? Something tells me people would get wet. Something tells me the tips would be pitiful. Something tells me I would get fired.
Something tells me I wouldn’t care. I’d rather work retail for the discounts, anyway. Like at The Gap. Or Banana Republic. Or—OhMyGosh Nordstrom Rack! Why don’t we have a Nordstrom Rack??
But that’s not what I’m talking about.
I’m talking about waiting.
I spend my whole life waiting. Waiting for my husband to get home. Waiting for my kids to find their shoes. Waiting on myself to make a decision. Waiting for
dinner to finish cooking the drive-through line to get smaller. Waiting for my hairdresser to have an opening. Waiting for these last five pounds to magically fall off. Waiting to meet Adam Levine. Waiting for bedtime. Waiting for morning. Waiting for the phone to ring. Waiting for the phone to for the love of all that’s holy please stop ringing. Waiting for quiet. Waiting for someone to start talking. Waiting for time travel to be invented so I can be twenty-two again. Waiting for the holidays to roll around. Waiting for the holidays to finally leave….
Waiting is a part of life.
But I’m terrible at it.
I’ve read verses about waiting and patience and anxiety and not worrying, and no matter how many times I search I cannot find a verse that ends with the line “unless you’re Amy Matayo.” I.E. “Do not be anxious about anything, unless you’re Amy Matayo. Because she can worry as much as she stinkin’ wants to.” (Philippians 4:6, the totally paraphrased version).
It’s very inconvenient. Clearly when Paul wrote those letters all those thousands of years ago he didn’t realize his major oversight when he forgot to include my name. He needed a better editor, obviously.
Maybe waiting is just necessary. Maybe it builds character. Maybe it teaches patience. Maybe it strengthens resolve. Maybe it confirms commitment, goals, and desires. Maybe it does a little of all these things.
Or maybe it’s just a fun thing that God allows. Because He’s God. And He can. And this is His big world and stuff, we get to live in it.
So I guess waiting is just a normal part of life. Something every one of us does every single day. Something every parent does, if they have kids (which, funny thing—is the only way you can actually be called ‘parent’). We all wait, each one of us for different reasons. Sometimes for big things, sometimes small. And sometimes we wait for the same thing over and over and over.
I’ve woken my kids up three times already. We live exactly twelve steps from the school, and they’re going to be late, again. This happens Every. Single. Week. One of these days their teachers are gonna get so sick of waiting on them and kick ‘em out of class…
(This post brought to you by Amy Matayo and her hour-long wait on hold with AT&T over the weekend.)